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Mike Argento: 'Fast Eddie's' last poker game

MIKE ARGENTO

Updated:
01/28/2013 08:13:14 AM EST

The Friday after Christmas, the guys gathered at Ed Behrens' house in Shrewsbury for their monthly poker game.

Ed - they called him "Fast Eddie" - made his famous homemade jambalaya. They had a few beers. They played a few card games, no high stakes, quarters mostly. Seven-card stud. Omaha. There was always one guy who would scour the Internet for new, weird games. They talked and laughed and generally were just guys.

They met while working at Westinghouse in Hunt Valley. Ed was a manufacturing engineer, having worked his way up from an apprenticeship as a tool and die maker. There were seven of them. The game would rotate from home to home, every month, from September to April, taking the spring and summer off to accommodate vacations and such. It was just too hard to organize anything in the summer.

The game began in 1979, or thereabouts. At least that's when Bill Fornoff started playing with the guys. They all got along, although at times, to outsiders, it wouldn't have looked that way. They traded good-natured jibes as they played, questioning others' poker acumen or general intelligence. It was a good time, something they all looked forward to.

The games always fell on the first Friday after payday. They all got paid at the end of the month, Fornoff said, and that week "was the only time any of us had any money."

It's not like they needed a lot of money to play. The stakes were a quarter. They would all chip in $5 to buy food and beer, Fornoff said, a practice that continues to this day.

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The money would go to the host, who would provide food and beer. They all tried to outdo each other in the food department, wanting to put on a good spread. Fornoff would make crab cakes. One of the other guys would barbecue some pork or beef. Behrens, of course, made jambalaya.

In the beginning, the game would require two cases of beer. Now, a 12-pack does it. They used to play until 12:30 or 1 a.m. Now, they start looking at their watches at 11.

Things have changed. They watched their kids grow up. They became grandfathers and great-grandfathers. They retired.

The constant was the poker game.

It was something they all looked forward to, something they scheduled other things around.

As the years passed, they played fewer hands. When they first started, they'd eat quickly to get back to the game, focusing on the cards. Now they linger and just sit around the table and talk. It was never about the game, or gambling, or the money. Fornoff figured that in 34 years, none of them were either up or down more than $20. It was about being guys, hanging with friends, having a few beers.

They'd talk all night, updates on family, what they've been up to. Behrens would talk about his latest woodworking projects or his garden. Other guys would tell the other guys about their kids or grandkids. They'd talk about all sorts of things.

But at the end of the night, when they'd go home and their wives would ask "What did you guys talk about?" none of them would have a clue.

The game was the source of Behrens' nickname. "Ed was the slowest shuffler and dealer in the world," Fornoff said. "It was like he was dealing wearing oven mitts. He was, by no means, fast."

That's how he always was. He never did anything fast. His daughter Patty Greib, said he had only been allowed to umpire one of the kid's softball games because he made the ball-and-strike calls too slow and it held up the game.

"Yeah, that was Ed,"

Fornoff said.

The game continued even as Behrens battled cancer in recent years. They would schedule games around his chemotherapy. He was on a three-week cycle, and by the end of the third week, he usually felt good enough to play cards. When the treatments left him unable to drive, one of the other guys would swing by his house and pick him up for the game. He didn't want to miss the game.

A few months back, Fornoff recalled getting calls from two of the guys, telling him Behrens was in the hospital. He called his room - just to see how he was doing - and from his hospital bed, Behrens said, "I'll be there." That was on a Tuesday. That Friday, poker night, he was there.

Behrens died on Monday, an infection had spread and overtook his body, weakened by its fight against cancer. He was 70.

Later in the week, one of the guys called his home to remind him that poker night was this Friday, and Behrens' wife Dee had to break the news.

This month's poker game was canceled. Instead, the poker guys will going to Behrens' funeral.

They'll pick it up again next month. The game has to go on.

"It just won't be the same without Ed," Fornoff said. "Next month, it'll be a sad game."

Mike Argento's column appears Mondays and Fridays in Living and Sundays in Viewpoints. Reach him at mike@ydr.com or 717-771-2046. Read more Argento columns at www.ydr.com/mike. Or follow him on Twitter at FnMikeArgento.